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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27756859">Rip It Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/illfoandillfie/pseuds/illfoandillfie'>illfoandillfie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Female Receiving), (slightly dom!ben), 50s au, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Smut, Unprotected Sex, a whole lot of dancing, one single spank, self indulgence at its finest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:28:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27756859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/illfoandillfie/pseuds/illfoandillfie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing you and Ben enjoy more than cutting a rug at Hernando's Hideaway. Except maybe what happens when he takes you home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hardy/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rip It Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I am big keen on the aesthetics of the 50s (I've been known to rock a barrel roll hair style and a circle skirt) and I saw a picture of Ben - one of the ones from his The Face Magazine photoshoot (tho the Marlboro shoot also hits the same) - and it had big 50s boyfriend vibes and i had to write something for it. It's very self indulgent lmao. </p><p>Of course, a disclaimer that I was not alive in the 50s so most of this is inspired by movies and tv shows and various other media set in the 50s/early 60s, probably more american than english but alas, I work with what i've got. Theres definitely a section very much inspired by Dirty Dancing. I did do as much research as I could though and all the dances mentioned are real things that you can look up on youtube. </p><p>There is also a matching playlist of the songs i listened to most while writing it. Mostly 50s stuff but also a few early 60s things that had the same sort of vibe (hey trends don't end the second a decade does) which can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3cSmyxXdG9fvWgV4phFGAP?si=xv8jpy6QRO6GuGKYE_Cn9w</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If your parents knew where you were, they’d hit the roof. It didn’t matter that you were legally an adult, you were still living in their house and under their rules (at least until you and Ben could afford somewhere bigger and the wedding ring on top). And Hernando’s Hideaway was not a place for well-behaved ladies such as their daughter. But what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Besides, they didn’t suspect anything. They just figured you and Ben were out at a movie or having dinner, and they’d long ago decided Ben was a <em>nice boy</em>, so they felt no need to worry. He’d made a good impression the first time he’d walked you home, partly by virtue of walking you home rather than speeding around in some kind of supped-up drag racer. Your father had invited him inside only to bombard him with questions about his intentions, but he’d handled it well and left both your parents with only good things to say about how polite and charming he was. You’d listened to the whole conversation, mildly embarrassed and hoping that Ben had enough ‘yes sir’s’ in him to get their approval. Evidently, he had because they agreed when he asked if he could take you to The Hop after school the next day. You couldn’t quite believe your luck. Captain of the rugby team Ben Jones had actually asked you out? It seemed impossible that he even knew who you were. Of course, you’d had a small crush on him already (most of the girls in your year did, let alone the rest of the school), but you’d never expected him to be interested in you in return. You’d have thought it nothing more than a fantasy brought on by boredom, a dream you had because you’d fallen asleep in class, except that Ben stopped you in the hall to remind you of the date.<br/>“You’re still up for this afternoon?” He seemed oblivious to the people around who were staring and whispering behind their hands.<br/>You tried to ignore everyone too, “Of course,”<br/>“Rockin’, meet you out the front after the bell?”<br/>“See you then.”<br/>He grinned as he turned from you and headed off to class, pausing at a window to smooth his coiffed hair. You found it hard to keep from beaming for the rest of the day or rather, the rest of the week. Even with the gossip spreading through the school like a wildfire from people who’d seen you together, splitting a milkshake, it was hard to put an end to your good mood. The date had gone well, better than you could have imagined, and was followed by another and another. And as unbelievable as it had first seemed, it became undeniable when he asked you to go steady and presented you with his captain’s badge as a token of his affection and a symbol for everyone to see. You were his girl. Ben’s girl.</p><p>On weekends, if you weren’t studying, Ben would pick you up in his shiny Ford, top down if it was sunny, and take you to the beach or the bowling alley or the drive in. At least that’s where the dates would start and where you’d make sure to be seen at least for a while before you snuck off to the backlot – a stretch of land behind an abandoned shopfront. It was the place to go when you were parking, everyone knew about it. Your parents would have killed Ben and then you if they’d known that was where you ended up most nights. They still saw you as their little girl and hadn’t quite cottoned on to the fact that you weren’t such a child or so naive. You knew what it meant when a guy bought you dinner and asked to go steady. Of course, you’d never have done anything more than petting with Ben. You knew some girls went further, you’d heard them in other cars on the backlot, but that wasn’t you. Thankfully, Ben understood that and didn’t push you further. One night, after you’d been together for a few months, you’d been worried about his expectations and whether he was growing bored, so you asked him about it, breaking away from a chaste kiss to quietly voice your concern. <br/>He shook his head, cupped your cheek in his hand, “I don’t need anything more,”<br/>“Are you sure? I overheard James talking about Nancy. He said he liked her cause she…puts out,”<br/>“So?”<br/>“Well I know you and Nancy used to go together an-”<br/>“Doesn’t matter,”<br/>“But-”<br/>“Angel Eyes, stop. I like what we do just fine. Besides, I intend to marry you. I can wait until then,”<br/>“You do?”<br/>“Of course. You’re my girl.”<br/>You’d kissed him again then and encouraged him to put his hands up your skirt as you’d unbuttoned his shirt and then let your fingers roam over his chest. He made sure to have you home before curfew though, he always did so your parents never had reason to suspect their innocent daughter was being corrupted. Which meant they raised no issues with your frequent after school visits to The Hop, though a lot of them ended in a similar way.</p><p>Usually, on afternoons when Ben didn’t have training, you’d stop into The Hop on your way home to share milkshakes and plates of chips and hang out with your friends, whining about your teachers and parents and discussing how good it would be to finally leave school. But then when you left Ben would detour to the backlot and pull into an empty spot. It was quieter on weekdays because most students had to be home earlier so you could usually get one of the better, slightly more secluded spots. As soon as the engine was off Ben would lean towards you, eyes meeting yours and then moving to your lips just before he closed the gap. It was always soft to start but never stayed that way. If time and responsibilities weren’t an issue you could happily have kissed Ben all day every day forever, so those moments in his car, free from watchful eyes of adults and gossiping classmates, moments when you could forget about everything else, usually became passionate and heated. Almost without fail you’d end up on Ben’s lap, your arms wrapped around him and his around you, rocking slowly against each other as he grabbed you through your skirts. Or else you’d be pinned to the seat, Ben’s weight over you as his lips explored your neck, always careful not to leave any evidence, or at least nothing that couldn’t be covered up.</p><p> Every other Friday you made sure to walk to The Hop and stay there, holed up in a booth with all your friends. The diner held dance nights twice monthly and just about everyone you knew went. The tables and chairs that usually occupied the centre of the room would have magically disappeared since you’d visited the previous afternoon, and sodas would be on sale for half off. Everyone would take turns putting quarters into the jukebox and picking their favourite songs and then they’d dance. The Stroll was popular, everyone forming two lines and taking it in turns to walk down the centre aisle to the beat. Ben would wrap his arm around your waist as you stepped in time and maybe twirl you out towards the line as you reached the end. It’d leave you laughing, and you’d impatiently wait for the song to end and everyone to have their turn to show off their moves and their partners, so you could be back in Ben’s arms. Usually after that someone would pick a rock and roll track with a fast beat and everyone would fall into other dances, the jitterbug, chalypso and the bop. The Hop would turn into a sea of swinging skirts and clicking fingers. Ben’s hand was never far from yours, holding you tight as you spun around and bounced to the beat. He’d pull you to the side between songs, buying you both drinks to cool down. He’d kiss you too, softly, just because he could. And afterwards, after the music had died down and the last round of shakes and sodas was being served, Ben would walk you home, his fingers entwined with yours right up until your reached your house. He could have driven but he liked the time he could spend with you, talking and giggling over the dances you’d seen and the school yard gossip that was either confirmed or started. You could go slow, dawdle a bit, prologue the time before you reached your door. Plus, it meant he didn’t have to worry if one of your friends snuck in alcohol pinched from home. But that was highschool and those dances had been for kids. You weren’t kids now. And Hernando’s Hideaway was not The Hop.</p><p>Sometimes Ben really did take you on the dates you’re parents assumed you went on but as fun as those sorts of activities were, they didn’t give you the same sort of release from the humdrum minutiae of the day to day. What you and Ben loved most was dancing. He picked you up after his final university class of the day. It was late enough that you’d already eaten dinner with your parents but Ben assured you he’d managed to grab a quick bite himself just before the lecture started.<br/>“And how did it go, the lecture not the dinner,”<br/>“Yeah, pretty interesting. We were looking at the differences between Brecht and Stanislavski,”<br/>“Sounds thrilling and difficult to spell,”<br/>Ben chuckled, taking his eyes from the road just long enough to glance at you, “how was your day?”<br/>“Oh, the usual secretary stuff - typing, answering phones, that sort of thing. And then dinner with my parents. They’ve told me to invite you over tomorrow night. Mum’s got a roast and everything.”<br/>“Tomorrow?”<br/>“Don’t say you’re busy because I know you’re not, and if you don’t come around soon Dad will assume you’re not going to marry me and you won’t be welcome at all,”<br/>“If he knew I was studying acting and not finance like I told him I <em>wouldn’t</em> be welcome,”<br/>“We’ll break it to him eventually,” you patted Ben’s arm reassuringly, “Maybe after the wedding through.” Personally you were sure Ben was going to be a star and as much as your parents would disapprove (and they would. You could just about hear them saying Ben had his head in the clouds and should be making smarter decisions) they’d also like knowing he could take care of you. Besides, you couldn’t deny you liked the idea of being married to a famous actor, like Rock Hudson or James Dean but all yours, “So will you come?”<br/>“Alright, I’ll be there. Usual time?”<br/>“Of course. And thank you, I know it’s not the most fun,”<br/>“As long as you’re there, Angel Eyes, it’ll be fine. Besides, got to keep the old man sweet if we want him to pay for the wedding,”<br/>You gave Ben a soft slap on the arm for that but it only made him laugh again and for the rest of the drive you kept each other giggling as you talked. Eventually though you arrived. Ben pulled the car into a free spot in the parking lot and offered you his arm as you walked towards the dark green door of Hernando’s Hideaway.</p><p>Hernando’s was a hopping club no matter what night you turned up, dimly lit and full of smoke. The haze that surrounded you seemed to inspire Ben and he reached into his pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes as he strode towards the bar to order your drinks. You wound your way over to a free seat to wait, accustomed to this particular routine. Ben handed you your glass before he sat down and then the cigarette which you passed back and forth as you scraped your chair across the floor until you were close enough to settle under his arm. For a while you sat there, enjoying the atmosphere and the loud music from the house band, watching the other patrons flirting across tables and filling up the dancefloor. But just watching soon got boring. You passed the smoke back to Ben but instead of reaching for your glass you fell into a lazy hand jive, nudging Ben with your shoulder so he’d take the hint.<br/>“C’mon Ben, let’s rip it up,”<br/>He smiled and drained the last of his drink but made you wait until the song had ended and a new one had kicked up before he stood and offered his hand. The new song was fast and loud, the sort of rock and roll your parents hated. Ben tugged you close, his hand shifting in yours, entwining your fingers together and you fell into the familiar swing rhythm, your skirts swirling as you twirled away from Ben and then back into his arms. All you had to do was keep your feet moving in time with the music and be ready for when he rolled you backwards over his shoulder or cartwheeled through your arms. In the months since you’d started coming to Hernando’s regularly, you’d become bolder with your dancing. The simple steps and spins you’d picked up as a teenager had been a good start, but you'd soon discovered that you could get a bigger rush with more complicated moves. Ben was the catalyst really, if you’d been dancing with anyone else you probably wouldn’t have tried half as many lifts. But, as you knew, he liked to perform and enjoyed the way people would cheer or gasp if they saw the two of you cutting a rug. All that sport meant Ben’s arms were strong and firm and he was more than capable of lifting you and swinging you around his body. And you loved it. The rush that came from being flipped around, never quite knowing where you’d end up in the next second. But you’d been bopping with Ben so long that you could read his thoughts in his movements, the shift of his muscles enough warning that you could anticipate how he was going to pick you up, and you knew he’d always catch you no matter how many twists and turns you took. His hand always found yours again.</p><p>Once you were on the dancefloor you barely left. There was one point where the band fell into a mid-tempo Calypso song and you suggested sitting it out in favour of another drink. You weren’t as keen on the simpler steps of a Chalypso or as familiar with the Samba dancing that other couples took up during the song so it was a good opportunity to freshen up and cool off with another Tom Collins or Mint Julep. But it wasn’t long before the band was kicking up another rock and roll riff and you and Ben made your way back onto the floor, trying to bump into as few people as possible as you twisted the night away. The band, from their spot on the stage at the end of the room, could see when people’s energy was flagging and interspersed their fast Rockabilly songs with slower numbers that encouraged closer dancing. It was generally possible to tell who was single or at least who was going home alone by who left the dancefloor at the first beat of a slower song. Ben readjusted his grip on your hand and pulled you in to him, leaning his forehead against yours as you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. It was worlds away from the few slow dances you’d shared at The Hop, none of the space left from the chaste hands on shoulders swaying you’d been partial to. But that was a big reason you loved going to Hernando’s Hideaway rather than any of the clubs or dancehalls closer to home. There was no chance of being seen at Hernando’s. No one knew you. At most they’d recognise you by your usual drink order or as a familiar face they’d seen dancing before, but they didn’t know your names or who you were. There was no chance of running into an aunt or uncle having a night out, or a friend of your parents, or anyone else who might disapprove of how obvious your affections were. At the Hideaway you could indulge in heated embraces, sly touches, and the kind of dancing that pressed bodies close. That’s why everyone who stepped through that green door and into the dim room was there, anonymity.</p><p>Ben let his hands wander over you as you laughed in his ear and encouraged his advances. His hand felt large and warm where it pressed into the small of your back, holding you tight against him before he let it slip lower, his fingers spreading out over your arse. Your hips rolled in time with his as you twisted your fingers into his hair, and you could feel every breath he took in the rise and fall of his chest against yours. He caught you in a passionate kiss, your rhythm stuttering out of time as you melted into each other but you found it again as he pulled your leg up onto his hip and dipped you down low. He must have been in a cheeky mood because he pressed his lips to the top of your breasts before pulling you back up. You could feel his smile as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips on your shoulder and then higher, closer to your jaw where he nipped you lightly with his teeth. You tried to breathe naturally, though it was suddenly much harder, your heart racing and his touch burning as his hands began roaming again. Not that you were much better behaved. It was hard to tell in the darkened room but you knew Ben well enough to know that his face would be flushed at your touch, the way you slid your hand down his chest and onto his hip. He was nearly panting as you turned, pulling his arms around your stomach as you pressed yourself back against him, his hips once against rolling with yours. It was only at Hernando’s that you could get away with such a move, hidden amongst other couples with swaying hips and heaving chests and whispered voices. Ben dipped his head so his lips were against your ear.<br/>“Y’know, it’s getting late,”<br/>You smiled to yourself, knowing you’d been out later, and tilted your head so you could respond and still be heard, “We should probably go.”<br/>Ben didn’t need any more encouragement than that, grabbing your hand and heading straight for the door, causing you to let out a shriek of laughter as he practically tugged you along.</p><p>There was no need to go to the backlot now that Ben had his own small apartment, and no need to park in general, though once or twice you hadn’t quite been able to wait the drive home and had instead pulled into a dead end or secluded street to have your fun. But tonight you managed to hold off until you were inside his place. You headed straight for the couch, dropping onto the soft cushion as you busied yourself with your shoes, unbuckling them and kicking them aside, while Ben went for his collection of records. He bent over them for a moment, flicking through until he found what he was looking for. You looked up at the first notes of Tutti Frutti, laughing as Ben sauntered towards you, hands outstretched, singing along but replacing the name Sue with your own.<br/>“Elvis,” you chuckled, letting him pull you to your feet, “good choice, though I think I prefer Little Richard’s version,”<br/>“Yeah but I lent my Little Richard album to a certain someone,” Ben poked your shoulder teasingly, “and she hasn’t given it back yet,”<br/>You wrapped your arms around Ben’s neck, swaying out of sync with the music, “Good thing you’re coming over for dinner then isn’t it?”<br/>“I guess it is. How long do you think we’ll have to wait before they fall asleep and we can…y’know?” Your dancing wasn’t the only thing that had changed since high school, nor was it the only physical activity you indulged in. Nowadays you didn’t limit yourselves to petting and necking. Ben would have waited if you’d said you wanted to but the truth was you were too impatient (and perhaps a little fearful he wouldn’t wait forever).<br/>“No way, I am not doing anything with my parents at home. There’s a reason I only invite you over when they’re out.”<br/>“I’d be quiet. And I’d let you suck on my fingers to muffle all those pretty noises you make.”<br/>Your stomach tightened at the suggestion, “That’s not the point.”<br/>“No, you’re right, not in the house. But the car’s fine. It’ll be dark by then anyway so no one would see.”<br/>You gave his chest a slap and shook your head though you knew he was only teasing.<br/>“No? Gosh you’re picky. I guess I’ll just have to work off all our energy tonight. You wanna take this to the bedroom?”<br/>“Mmhmm, like the sound of that,” you laughed, kissing Ben again.</p><p>Elvis was still playing as Ben’s tongue brushed over your lips and you blindly teetered towards his bedroom, locked together and barely hearing the music. You were much too distracted by how his hands felt sliding down your sides and over your stomach, making goosebumps break out wherever he touched, ending just above the top of your skirt. He pulled your shirt free from where it was tucked in and skimmed his fingers just under the hem as you shivered with the heat of his touch. You could feel his lips curve up into a smile as you began popping the buttons of his own shirt, pausing only when he made to lift yours over your head. As soon as it had hit the ground he was leading you towards the bed, kissing you twice as passionately as he tugged on the zip of your skirt. Until it snagged.<br/>“Wait, Ben, stop,” you said, forcing your eyes open and laying your hand on his chest, “I think it’s caught on the petticoat,”<br/>“Why do you bother with those?” Ben asked, letting his arms fall to his sides, “There’s got to be about 12 of them under there, getting in my way.”<br/>“It’s only two,” you said, most of your attention on the zip as you carefully pulled the chiffon loose, trying not to rip it, “and I wear them so it looks good while I dance with you.”<br/>“You’d look just as gorgeous with less layers,” Ben sat on the edge of the bed, “Your friend Barbara is right, petticoats really do make the best contraception. I don’t know if I can be bothered anymore.”<br/>“You’re such a baby,” you laughed, having heard the same playful complaint before. You were about to remind Ben that the petticoats hadn’t been an issue last time when suddenly he was sliding to his knees. <br/>“Think I should help you remove some layers,” he said seriously, pausing to meet your eyes before lifting your skirts and shuffling under them, “starting with this one.”<br/>You jolted as you felt him press a kiss to the band of your underpants, suddenly feeling as breathless as if you’d just left the dancefloor as he bit the material between his teeth and tugged.<br/>“Don’t mind if you rip those,”<br/>Ben’s breath was warm as he laughed against you, but he released the now slightly damp fabric to peel them down your legs as you reached up to unclasp your bra, leaving you in just your skirts.<br/>“Much better,” <br/>Your breath hitched as Ben kissed the apex of your thigh, his hands coming up to grab your arse as his lips met your core, making you whine.<br/>“Shhh, baby, I got you,” he mumbled against you as he shifted on his knees and traced around your clit with the tip of his tongue. Slowly he trailed his tongue along your slit, using his grip on your arse to press you close. <br/>“God, Ben,”<br/>Ben wrapped his lips around your clit and hummed in response, breaking off to chuckle as you moaned with the sensation. He shifted on his knees again but before you could say anything he was pressing his tongue to you once more, drawing more noises of appreciation from you. You threw a hand out, hoping to keep yourself upright, as Ben groaned against you and made your legs tremble. <br/>There was a pause as he shifted he weight again, dipping his head lower still but he pulled back too soon, grunting in frustration as he lifted your skirts and leaned back to look at you. <br/>“Lift your leg up for me, love,”<br/>“What?”<br/>“Over my shoulder, I can’t get at you properly like this,” he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh when you hesitated, “C’mon Angel Eyes, you’re normally so good at letting me lead. Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”<br/>“Yes, very much. Legs just a little wobbly, that’s all,”<br/>“That because of me?”<br/>“We were out dancing for quite a while…”<br/>Ben leaned in to your thigh again but this time he marked you with his teeth which only made it harder to remain standing.<br/>“Yes, okay, it was you.”<br/>“That’s what I like to hear. Leg up.” He grasped your ankle and you complied, carefully placing your leg over his shoulder. His fingertips dug into you as he once more pressed his lips to your cunt, reaching spots he hadn’t been able to find with both your feet on the ground. Ben licked and sucked at your folds with such enthusiasm you found yourself breathless, the snagged zipper long forgotten. Your composure was made all the harder to retain when you heard his muffled voice, between wet sucking noises, say, “mmm, that’s better.” It was enough to completely destroy every thought that wasn’t about how good it felt to have him kneeling between your thighs. What little clear thought remained slipped away as Ben added his fingers, stroking between your lips to gather your wetness before teasing your entrance with just his fingertips. You couldn’t see him but you knew he’d be thoroughly enjoying how easily you came undone for him and how you whined when he made you wait for a heavier touch. He’d be wearing the same look he had whenever he made you wait until the start of a new song before he’d take you onto the dancefloor. That self-assured smile that told you he knew what he was doing, knew that you were itching for something more, and that he was having fun teasing you about it. But eventually, after what felt like decades, he relented and gave you what you wanted, sliding a finger deep into you. You couldn’t stop the high pitched mewling sound that escaped you as he fucked you with his digit and refocused his attention on your clit, though you wished the bed had a frame or a footboard for you to hold on to. Once he knew you were ready for more, Ben didn’t hesitate to give you another finger and then another, working them in and out of you as you keened at the slightest shift of angle or adjusted pressure on your clit. <br/>“Keep – fuck,” a pause as he pressed the flat of his tongue to you, seemingly forgetting what he’d been about to say, “Keep making those sounds, Y/N, and,” another pause for him to draw another sound from you, “and I’ll blow my top before I want to.”<br/>You let out a panted laugh, “You’re fault.” It was all you could manage to get out while still remaining coherent. <br/>Ben ignored you in favour of pumping his fingers into you even faster, his lips once again around your clit where they remained until you were shaking through your orgasm, hands grasping at your own hair since you couldn’t reach Ben’s through your remaining clothes. <br/>He slowed his movements as you came down, kissing your thighs and gently licking up whatever of your arousal he hadn’t already swallowed.</p><p>“Bit unsteady there, love,” Ben chuckled as he helped you put your foot back down and withdrew from under your skirt, noticing the way you stumbled slightly. As soon as he was standing he placed his hands on your waist to help keep you stable.<br/>“Mmhmm,” you hummed still trying to compose yourself.<br/>“Did you get that zip undone?” Ben asked as if he didn’t already know the answer<br/>“Uh, got a bit distracted,”<br/>“Can you get it down now or should we just leave the skirts on while I fuck you?”<br/>“No, I got it,” you shook your head to clear some of the lustful fog from it and turned your attention back to the zip. It was nearly free anyway and only took a little wiggle to unstick it completely letting you shimmy out of the last of your clothes, “See, they’re off. Easy,”<br/>“I suppose that wasn’t too hard,” Ben chuckled, grabbing your hips again and guiding you towards the bed as you pulled him into another kiss, able to taste yourself on his tongue. <br/>You let him steer you as you dropped your hand to his pants, fumbling to get his fly undone, “Your turn.” You’d only just managed to pop the button when Ben placed his hand on your shoulder and pushed you onto the bed. <br/>“I got to watch you so only fair you watch me,” he said as he quickly undressed, dropping his shirt to the ground and then moving to his pants.<br/>You leaned back on your palms, enjoying the view. It had been at least a year since Ben had been in a proper rugby match, so he was a little softer round the middle than he had been when you’d first got together but the frequent dancing had helped keep him in shape for the most part. Especially his arms. Just the sight of those arms made you think of how easily he could pick you up, pin you down, and you unconsciously spread your legs. <br/>Ben noticed but said nothing, just tried to be quick about undressing. As soon as his underwear had been kicked from his ankle he moved towards you, kneeling on the bed. You pushed yourself forward, intending to kiss him again, but were stopped as he grabbed your hips and effortlessly flipped you over, leaving you laying on your front.<br/>“Ben!” <br/>“It seems mean to ask you to ride me when your legs are so tired,” he said with faux concern, “this way I can take care of you properly.” Ben grabbed your thighs, settling between them and used his grip to pull you back onto him, sinking so deep your arse was flush against him. He gave you a moment to adjust though it was made a little harder as he leaned forward to softly kiss your shoulder, changing the angle of his cock and making you whimper. But then he was settling back on his knees again, squeezing your thighs as he began thrusting into you. You couldn’t do much more than grasp at the sheets as he fucked you deep and hard, hitting just the right spot on every thrust. Ben grunted above you and you squirmed at the sound until he hand came down on your arse and then pressed against your lower back, holding you still. You squealed at the sudden unexpected spank, though it was somewhat muffled by the bedding, and stilled once more, letting Ben control your pleasure. He readjusted his grip on both your thighs, fingertips digging into your soft skin as he sped up. Your hands balled into fists around the sheets and your moans got louder as you felt yourself nearing release, your stomach tight with need. And then it hit, a flood of warmth washing over you as Ben kept fucking you through it, grunting animalistically. <br/>“Fuck, so tight,” he managed to growl as the orgasm made you clench on him. <br/>You felt completely boneless as he continued pounding into you, no longer grasping the sheets tightly, whimpering on every pass as your orgasm subsided. But it didn’t take much longer for Ben to find his own release, hips stuttering with the effort of holding off until he couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed into you, holding you tight against him as he filled you with cum, grasping your thighs so hard you were sure you’d find bruises in the shape of his fingers later.</p><p>When he finally let you go, you were both panting, trying to get air back into your lungs. You were free to move but found it much too difficult, preferring to lay where you were as you felt the bed dip with Ben’s movements. He settled on his side beside you, fingers tracing lightly over your back until you regained enough energy to roll over to face him. <br/>“You okay?” he asked softly.<br/>“Mmhmm, yeah.”<br/>“I take the speechlessness as a complement,”<br/>You just nodded, smiling as he laughed softly at your response.<br/>“D’you need anything?”<br/>“Not yet,” you shuffled closer, tucking yourself into him, your head under his chin.<br/>“Okay. Just let me know when you do,” he said, beginning to trace random pattens over your side with his fingers. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “The offer still stands by the way. As soon as your parents are asleep.”</p>
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